


Art Is Dead

by Elfwich



Category: Homestuck (webcomic), She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018), Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: All of the worst tags, Best, Did I say worst, F/F, Vriska - Freeform, i meant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23365138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfwich/pseuds/Elfwich
Summary: One gem, one troll, on an alien world together. Both think they understand the meaning of strength, but will TRUE STRENGTH be the strength found in each other?
Relationships: Lapis Lazuli/Vriska Serket
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	Art Is Dead

There are many things that can be considered when pondering the universe. Often times, the void encompassing our lives can feel like a deep, dark well of infinite impossibility, where all rationality proves to be nothing more than a fistful of chips thrown to the influence of chance, other times it can feel like this inescapable force that binds our souls to our bodies and our bodies to the Earth. Things binding things while things are circling other things. Shapes. Purpose. Void. Endless. Eternal. Unforgiving. Spiraling out of control like a cosmic pinwheel.

None of these things, and nothing more, were going through the head of Vriska Serket as she pierced the veil separating her world from the next and ricocheted jaw-first into yet another whirlwind adventure. All a day in the life of the Thief of Light.

As worlds mesh together, as the laws of physics as we know them are rent apart like an abstract stick of poly-dimensional butter under the mercy of a Serket-shaped knife, our point-of-view shifts; the name Vriska Serket becomes simply You, purely to suit her convenience and confound ours, and thus, this tale of adventure and romance begins with us asking the age-old question of our daunting heroine:

What will you do?

"F8CK8NG G8D D8MMIT M8TH8RGRU88ING F8CK!!!!!!!!"

We're off to a good start.

As you try your damnedest to apply enough of the ole' elbow grease to painfully lodge your jaw back into place, you fail to take note that your surroundings aren't familiar to you at all. But when it comes to your particular brand of absurd happenstances, unfamiliarity might as well be the most familiar thing of all, so no big whoop. Finally, with the brutal administration of a POWERFUL wallop of metal fist to compromised jaw structure, you manage to set things right where they're supposed to be. You don't mean to sound edgy or overly-ostentatious, but you're no stranger to pain, so, again, no big whoop. And even if you DID mean to sound like that, who the fuck is going to judge you? The READERS? If their opinion was worth diddly-squat do you think they'd be here, witnessing the over-complicated events leading up to an excruciatingly jarring and graphic smooch-fest occurring between two characters who have no business even being associated with the same QUASI-REALITY as one another? That's what you thought.

Okay, you must have ate shit pretty hard, because for a second you not only imagined that somebody would be reading this dreck, but you imagined that you existed in the context of an ironic fanfiction. What utter ridiculousness! You, VRISKA SERKET, reducing yourself to appearing in a fanfiction???????? That is never going to happen, not in a million years, nor in 500,000 words or less. Besides, you're not quite ready to pull aside THAT particular curtain just yet, this narrative is already getting self-aware enough, as-is.

Okay, to save some time, we're going to transition to check on our OTHER heroine while Vriska is busy complaining and proceeding to the nearest town, because GOD FORBID these romantic fanfictions ever occur in the dirty old woods. So prepare yourself for the greatest transition that decades-worth of digital and technological expertise can afford to bring you.

transition.  
Yeah, that's it, that's where your tax dollars go. Yeah, democracy in-action, baby!

What is there in the life? You make it somewhere, only to end up somewhere else doing the same thing. You spend your whole life selflessly committing yourself to a cause, in the pursuit of the opportunity to be selfish at a later date. You don't know where, you don't know when, all that matters is that Lapis Lazuli just touched down on Etheria while we were busy having an existential crisis.

With the absence of a crash and a tear in the fabric of reality, you begin to ask yourself: DOES SHE-RA TAKE PLACE IN THE SAME WORLD AS STEVEN UNIVERSE??? You then ask yourself whether or not I have the authority to be making these decisions, to which I shrug and respond... A03 said it was okay, what do you want from me? Most importantly of all, you ask yourself: are we seriously switching to a third-person point of view for Lapis, or is this all stuff currently going through her head? You figure it out, genius, reading is supposed to be a learning experience.

Yes, the first one.  
And in case you need a visual aid:  
Lapis = You = You.  
Vriska = You = Vriska.  
Fanfiction = You = Lapis.  
Consumer = Product = Profit.  
Does that help?

Okay, now, where were we? Lapis' feet touched down on the mossy earth and her gaze turned horizon-ward at the cotton-candy streaks of sky blanketed beyond. With Steven (SPOILER) having gone away from Beach City for his own mental health, Lapis, in an uncharacteristic moment of self-discovery because this is a fan interpretation, decided to give it a shot, as well. But who needs to confine themselves to the Earthly bounds of a shitty Sedan when you have wings and can literally inhabit the vacuum of space without need of oxygen and protection from solar radiation? You can't burn light, athiests. 

So here she is, on a planet far transcending the jurisdiction of Earth, but teeming with life, nonetheless. Maybe if she's lucky, she'll meet some new friends who she won't abandon. As Lapis turns her gaze inward to the forth wall, I begin to question whether or not I'm being the teensiest bit too hard on her. I mean, trauma is a very difficult experience and people cope with it in a variety of different ways, and sometimes, whenever everybody you've ever known has either tried to punch your gem into pieces or use you for their own benefit, you find it difficult to trust yourself being happy with somebody else. But in the midst of my introspection, I remember; this is a joke fanfiction, better save the introspection for the real writers out there, (if you haven't already, subscribe to SoftMystic, their fluff is phenomenal and their interpretation of Lapis is amazingly in-depth).

Now that I'm done with the shameless advertising segment of this fanfic, let's do some actual plot progression.

"Welp. I'm not in Kansas anymore."  
Really? SIGH........... award-winning dialogue, everybody!

fucking transition while i still have my dignity.

Our two heroines, unbeknownst to each other, approach from opposite ends of the small Etherian town. The air is alive with laughter and the mingling smell of cinnamon rolls and fine Italian cuisine, (aw hell yeah, space Italy, what a good idea), and both of these moody blue vagabonds share the same exact instance of thought as they both wend their way through the clumps of body traffic blocking their way to the inner plaza:

"This SUCKS!!!!!!!!"

But amid the saccharine, overly-cheery overcast of a healthy and happy community, one singular ray of hope shimmers through the thick, impermeable void of their outward apathy and appeals to their inner wonder and astonishment, a place where you're not obligated by societal pressure to talk to people and everybody knows your name:

SPACE STARBUCKS!!!!!  
HOLY SHIT!!!!!  
THIS IS AMAZING!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Like a magnet, that welcoming two-tailed mermaid attracts these two introverts, and neither acknowledge one another as they bustle through the door, mow through the line of aspiring writers and kale-munching crossfit trainers, and manufacture a reason to keep themselves tethered to their lifeboat through the customary order of an iced latte and a half-stale scone. They both take their seats at opposite ends of the cafe to one another and spend the next half-hour waiting for their orders outside of each other's peripheral. But, just so you don't start mistaking this for some second-rate coffee shop story, and not the fully-realized faux romance that it was destined to be, they both receive their orders... but at the same time, you see? Eh? Eh-eh??

"An order for LARRY LAZLO LI!"

"An order for VASKA!"

Annoyed by this unforeseen slander on their names, (because how difficult is it to remember these two weirdos, honestly?), they both stand up at the same time and march up to the counter to file their formal complaint with the utmost dignity:

""TH8T 8SN'T MY N8ME, Y8U ASS-M8NKEY!!!!!!!!"

"THAT IS SO NOT CASH-MONEY, BRO!!!"

They stop talking. The cafe goes dead quiet. Slowly, they turn their gazes toward each other and they lock eyes. Then, a certain sense of solidarity begins to blossom forth from deep within the wells of their distended subconscious'. Right here, right now, in this random Space Starbucks, it is only them sharing this very deep and intimate experience with each other, because nobody else IN THE HISTORY OF EVER has ever had their name mispronounced at a STARBUCKS LOCATION, (Google it, I'm right), and the fact that they chose the same location, ordered the same iced latte with double-pump caramel and extra foam, and got their names affronted by this unsuspecting, yet no less evil and foolish Starbucks clerk... it meant something. Then it slowly began to settle in, that feeling of butterflies clapping a round of applause in your tummy, that prickle of your cheeks as though fiberglass is running through your veins instead of blood... this was love at first sight.

"How Do I Live Without You" as sung by Trish Yearwood begins playing over the loudspeakers, and both women simultaneously dump their iced lattes all over this confused and confounded clerk's scratchy green apron while staring lovingly into each other's eyes, two eyes for eight. Then they fling themselves upon one another and have the loudest, sloppiest instance of sloppy makeouts in the history of paradox space, and later they break into somebody's house and have kawaii times on their shag carpeting, the end.

**Author's Note:**

> • If you've read things this far, then you know that you've just been duped and that this entire first fic was set about purely for comedic purposes. I hope that helps set the tone for the type of all-american fun that you can expect to find here.  
> • Now that I'm done selling my soul for nothing, let's get down to the real business, to the A-grade writing. Yeah, babey. Sincerely, I hope you have fun and find some kind of work on here that you find reaches you on a personal and/or fundamental level. If my works don't exactly resonate with you, then remember that not reading them costs nothing, but taking the time to read them costs something that you'll never get back, so...  
> • I'd like to thank my dearest friends mystic, Gerald, and Alaila for inspiring me to want to be a better writer, not only for them, but for myself, as well.


End file.
